winds esker               
  
                                          
 there was this place that  for two years 
 i couldn't  go to.  regardless  how much 
 discussed with  others, or  pointed  out 
 on  maps, i  could not think of it  when 
 alone.  i  would  often  travel past the 
 fork,  where a right  turn  would surely 
 take  me there, but even then, something 
              kept me away.               
                                          
 when  i finally got  there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,   the  place  was   surreal.  an 
 esker,  like  a needle-thin rift  out in 
 the  lake,  but  ten  meters  high   and 
 adorned in  birch, willow,  bracken, and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice the view  to either  side.  there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize  them. first off, they 
 were much too close, as  the lake should 
 stretch  for a  hundred meters  more  on 
 both  sides.  but  now  i  felt  i could 
 almost reach  out and  touch  them.  and 
 then, when  i realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they were  of the  right lake. but  this 
       lake is large, fractured, and      
 bipartite. like a pair  of  lungs carved 
 into the  granite, and with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
     impossibly close shores, i slowly    
 understood  them as belonging many miles 
                   away.                  
                                          
 i  examined  the  ridge,  the   treeline 
 above.  was this  what you saw opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                 remember.                
                                          
 carrying  forward, on  the  very tip  of 
 the  esker,  i found  the ruins of  some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
 marble staircases, stone floors beneath  
 the  moss,  and strange  slabs  inserted 
 into  the slope  like  dams against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting  there, i could see  across  the 
 narrowed lake my entire path to where  i 
 sat:  from  the stairwell  of  my house, 
 through the  old woods  behind the  tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and then  back  under  it, 
 through  the   fancy  villas,  over  the 
 fields, and then that right turn  at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and  then the  stairs  up on the  ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this  was probably  it. 
 hidden  in a  grove, there  were  stairs 
 much like the ones  i  currently sat on, 
 old and  worn  down,  that  lead you  up 
 onto the esker. the point of  entry. had 
 i insted opted to walk  the  path at its 
 foot, i'm  sure my  experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on   the  lake,  there  were  people  in 
 boats.  i wondered, could they even  see 
 me? if  i shouted, would  they  turn  to 
         stare right through me?